Unexpected
by shadowed.phoenix
Summary: He never expected to find her waiting for him. He never expected to see her there, to see her sad, to see her at all. He never expected to feel this cascade of emotions. But sometimes, the most unexpected things in life are the most treasured. SSHG


Title: Unexpected

Posted: January 10, 2005

Notes: A brief, random one-shot because I couldn't get it out of my head. If you don't like SS/HG, I'm sorry, because I do. Sad, but wonderful. Random, but I like it anyway.

* * *

_Let your colors collide  
The time is so fleeting  
I quit running behind  
Oh, I know your meaning  
You look for  
For what you want to say  
And you look for  
The perfect time of day_

--Howie Day

* * *

He hadn't meant to find her like this. He had never expected that she would be here, of all places. That she would be here, in his sanctuary, and crying tears that he would never have thought would come. He had not expected to discover that she cared, and he had certainly never expected that she might reveal such emotions.

He hesitated at the entrance to his rooms, fingers pausing to brush over the paneling of the door frame. He could not take his eyes away from her—could not draw his gaze from the young woman who wept so magnificently in his emerald armchair.

She was curled into herself, as if somehow hedge-hoging her way into the smallest corner of the battered furniture would be of aid. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, her carefully crafted face resting on the pale skin of her hands. There was something tranquilly sorrowful about the image—a brilliant, beautiful young witch who was in entirely the wrong place, at the entirely wrong time, doing the entirely wrong thing.

There were tear streaks racing down her cheeks. The fire was unlit, but he could see them anyway. Slivers of silver that sneaked surreptitiously over cheeks, lips, and hands. Illuminated by the faintest glow from the hallway, even his elongated shadow had failed to hide the carefully dangerous pathways of liquid.

It hurt, for some reason, to see her this way. Chocolate orbs, that he remembered for being so vibrantly intelligent, now seemed somehow dimmed. It was as if she had suddenly fallen into a pit barren of anything and everything, and was unable to pull herself out. There was so much hopelessness in her gaze, so much futile terror, and yet he could not understand its purpose or its reason.

She drew a shaky breath, as if coming to herself, but still she did not see him. She was miles away, days away, worlds away. She was locked in a land of distressing incompleteness, and seemed unable to drag herself out. Her hand did not move to wipe away her tears, and the rise and fall of her chest was hardly detectable, even beneath the plain woolen sweater she wore.

He hadn't asked her to be here. He had never wanted her here, never questioned the fact that she would not dare stray back after the last time. And yet… and yet there she was. Here she was. Perched like an angel of misery, his own silent guardian who should never have existed, least of all now.

It was only at that moment that he came to himself enough to realize that he was aching. That, from head to toe, his body was shaking with the sheer effort of holding himself here, keeping his eyes trained on her. He gasped in a low, shaky breath, doing his best to make himself silent. It could never have worked, but he did not want to disturb her actions. He did not want to ruin this memory, for he rather suspected that he had few left to gain.

It was enough. Enough to drag the hazily downtrodden orbs of his former student to his form, and enough for her shock to be registered instantly. He did not know what was to come now—could no longer feel anything beyond this eternal pain, this eternal ache. She was there, and he was here, and oh Merlin… he hurt. He hurt and ached and felt most suddenly as if his skull was only inches from exploding.

She was there, as he collapsed. She was there to catch him, her slight frame lifting his weight all too easily. It was all swimming, and the ceiling was dancing, and somehow in his mind hovered the image of something still indiscernible. But not far away… never far way now.

Her arm was around him, guiding, leading him gently to the ancient sofa which was so rarely touched within his rooms. She was there as he lay down, her hands absently slipping his head into her lap. Vaguely, he could feel her fingers as they traced patterns through his hair. Distantly, he could tell she was stroking his face, caressing him with a sweet gentleness which he had never hoped to acquire again.

She was whispering, too. Words he could barely make out, words he could not know and could not understand. The sky was ricocheting about his rooms, and only one thing could remain still. Only those eyes—those wonderful, wonderful eyes. Only those tear-clouded windows stayed transfixed, and the only thoughts he could draw were ones of confusion.

He did not want her to cry.

He did not want her to cry, because that hurt him.

He did not want her to cry, because that hurt him, because he loved her.

Because he loved her.

There was something in his lungs, something making it so hard, so hard, to emit the words which he so desperately wanted to use. There was something trying to stop him, but he couldn't be stopped. He couldn't leave her hear, simply to cry. He couldn't leave her here, to only know that he had abandoned her, left her alone in her melancholy.

He tried to smile. It was difficult. But he tried to smile, and feebly, he saw her try to smile back. Slowly, oh how slowly, his fingers rose, brushing against those fatal tracks of tears. They dropped almost instantly, for he had not the strength for even so little movement, but he knew she understood. She understood that he did care, that he did not want to leave her, that he had not meant what he said.

But there was one piece still missing, one small chunk of the puzzle of which he had yet to give her.

"Hermione..." It was barely even a whisper, barely even a word. She tried to shush him, but he could not be silenced. Not now, not now when he needed so much to tell her. Not when it mattered the most. "Hermione… I love you."

He saw the surprise—saw the unexpected gleam of hope, saw the sudden, desperately maddening flicker of life and love and everything that really mattered. He saw that she understood, saw that she had gained her own unexpected wish, and then… and then he saw no more.

But she was there. She was there to watch his heart stop, there to watch as it all ended. There to wait for someone to come. There to cry tears of sheer agony.

There to remember, that love can be found even in the most unexpected of places.


End file.
